We are Dauntless
by Cocacoriola
Summary: A collection of oneshots about Fourtris.
1. Overcoming Fears

**Overcoming Fears**

We lie in bed, our hands clasped together. I want to pull her close to me, to wrap my arms around her, but she has seemed distant lately. The war has taken a toll on both of us, but while my mind and soul seem to cling to her more than ever, Tris seems to be pulling away. I've tried to give her space, to make sure she doesn't feel overwhelmed. It doesn't appear to have helped. I almost lost her before, and now she seems to be slipping away from me despite my efforts.

"Tobias," she says carefully, sitting up and pulling her hand away from me. Her eyes are hard, and it feels like a blow to my chest. Her face is void of emotion, and there's no way for me to guess what she plans on saying next.

"What?" I ask, sitting up as well. I am tempted to delay this conversation by reaching over and drawing her into my lap, by kissing her so forcefully that I would be able to convey what I wasn't able to put into words. Talking isn't always my strong suit.

She pulls her legs up and wraps her arms around them. "You can always be honest with me, you know?" There is just a tiny waver in her voice, so faint that I might not have caught it if I didn't know her so well. "Even if you think it's going to hurt me."

I stare at her, totally confused. "Okay," I answer. I rack my brain, wondering what she could be hinting at.

Tris glares at me. My stomach clenches. "If you're tired of me, just break up with me already," she snaps. "I don't know why you're leaving me hanging like this."

"Tris," I say, surprised. I reach out for her hand, but she twists away from me and rolls off the bed. She stands up straight and crosses her arms over her chest.

"Don't," she says. "Just don't."

"Don't what?" I demand, getting to my feet as well. Frustration starts to surface, but I know better than take the bait. Now is not the time to lose my temper.

"Don't pretend that you still like me," she replies. "I don't know why you're bothering."

"I'm not pretending," I insist. "Tris, you almost died. There's a lot of things I'm not sure of lately, but the fact that I love you isn't one of them."

"You don't act like it lately," Tris said, a cold look still on her face. "You hardly even touch me, and you talk to me like you'd talk to any stranger on the street. I don't know what's been going on with you anymore, because you don't tell me."

I am silent for a moment, trying to decide between various responses. "I'm sorry," I finally say. "I didn't want to push you. You seemed so far away, and I thought giving you some space was the best thing to do."

"I didn't want space," Tris says, starting to look vulnerable. "I wanted you to be here. Right here, where I needed you."

"I'm sorry," I say again. "I was wrong." I walk around the bed and hold my arms out to her. She keeps her arms crossed for several long seconds, before finally closing the space between us and slipping her arms around my middle. She doesn't cry, though she seems to deflate a little. I can practically feel the relief radiating from her. I can't believe she actually thought I didn't want her anymore.

She straightens up, and I bend down to kiss her. Her lips part against mine, and I slide my tongue into her mouth as I trail my hands down her arms and rest them on her hips. She presses against me, deepening the kiss. She throws her arms around my neck and twists her fingers in my hair. "Tobias," she sighs, and I'm so thrilled to be really touching her for the first time in weeks.

Tris pulls away from me again, and takes a step back. She tucks a strand of short, blonde hair behind her ear and though she has extracted herself from my grasp, she doesn't look angry or upset anymore. "Tobias," she repeats, crossing her arms again. This time, she looks nervous.

"Tris?"

"Remember, after the fear landscapes, when you said… that if I still wanted you someday…" She twists her hands around, and I'm amused to see that her face is red. However, I can't deny that this topic makes me as nervous as it does her.

I clear my throat. "Someday is today?" Nerves aren't the only thing I'm feeling. I never wanted to make Tris uncomfortable, never wanted her to think that sex was all I wanted. But I can't lie and say that I _didn't_ want this.

Tris nods, and that was all I needed. In half a second, she is in my arms again and I crush my lips against hers. We fall onto the bed, and in no time at all, she has pulled my shirt off and I am intent on returning the favor. We are quickly approaching the line that we've never crossed before. I pull away, just barely, to look her in the eye and ask, "You're positive about this?"

I kiss her neck, moving my lips lightly across her skin, while I wait for her to respond. "I'm absolutely positive," Tris breathes, and enforces her point by wrapping her leg around my waist. She put her hands on either side of my face, and drags my mouth back to hers. These actions are what assure me that she is sure, that she really does want me.

"You can tell me if you want me to stop," I mumble through our kiss.

"I won't," she whispers, and she reaches for my belt.

. . .

I hold her, closer than I've held her in such a long time. She rests her head on my chest. Her hair smells sweet, like a medley of fruit. My arms tighten around her, and she glances up at me. "What are you thinking about?" she askes.

"You, of course," I reply. How could anything else be on my mind?

She smiles faintly. "What about me?"

She said she wanted me to talk to her, to tell her whatever was going through my mind. "I was thinking that I want to marry you, but I should probably wait a while to propose."

Tris is no longer smiling. "You want me that much?"

"I told you," I say, "that I would be your family now. That I love you. How can you still be questioning why I'd want to be with you?"

"I don't understand," Tris says finally. "But as long as you love me, I guess it doesn't matter. As long as I love you, too."

I kiss the top of her head. "I will always love you," I promise. "And now that you're not afraid of me anymore, I have nothing to worry about."

"The real question is, are you still afraid of me?"

"You'll always terrify me," I assure her.

Tris grins. "That's good to know."

We are silent for a long period of time. I think Tris has fallen asleep, until she turns her head up and kisses my jaw. "Tobias," she murmurs. The way she says my name always does something to me, but nothing could compare to what she says next.

"When you're ready to ask," she says, "I'm ready to say yes."

**A/N: Fluffy Fourtris. Hopefully they're not too OOC. I've got another oneshot planned, so hopefully I'll get that out. Eventually. Review, pretty please?**


	2. Stuck Together

**A/N: This is pretty AU, and although I absolutely loved their first kiss in the book, this is just something I wanted to write.**

**Stuck Together**

I shouldn't have taken a shower so late at night. It was a mistake to think it would be okay for me to wander around the Dauntless compound by myself. I also made the mistake of deciding to sleep in shorts, instead of my pants. My damp hair hangs down my back and my sleeveless shirt clings to my body – not that there's much for it to cling to.

Rough hands grab my arms. Cover my eyes. Push me off to the side. It happens so quickly, I can't react. I'm shoved from behind, and I stumble forward. I nearly fall, but I regain my balance just in time for a door to slam shut behind me. There is loud laughter from the other side and someone yells, "Have fun spending the night in the supply closet, Stiff!"

Peter. I'm not surprised that he's behind this.

I blink in the dark, getting used to the lack of light. When my eyes adjust, I see that Peter is mistaken. This isn't a closet, but a large room. Nearly as big as the room the transfers sleep in, there are shelves laden with what I assume is cleaning supplies, towels, toilet paper, and anything else the Dauntless could possibly need lining the walls. The only thing missing is food, which I can easily survive the night without. There's also no water, but I can last until breakfast without that, too.

I immediately try to open the door, which is locked. I don't know why I thought Peter might have left it unlocked. My first reaction, of course, is to get angry. I punch the door, which hurts, but it doesn't do me any good. I'm about to punch the door again when a hand wraps around my arm, right above my elbow.

"You're just going to break your hand."

I know who it is before I even turn around, but I still whirl around, surprised. I don't understand what Four is doing in a supply room at almost midnight. I don't have to ask, because he has an answer ready for me. "I needed a mop," he says. "I spilled… something on my floor."

I gently tug my arm out of his grasp, leaving a pleasant burning sensation where his fingers had been. When his hand is free, he reaches up and turns on a light, a bare bulb screwed to the ceiling in the center of the room. "What did you spill?" I blurt, curious. I can't stop myself from wanting to know anything I can about him.

Four scowls at me. "It was just some beer."

"Have you been drinking?" I ask, taking a step back. I've seen him drunk once, but I've got no one way to know he's always such a happy drunk.

"No," Four answers, looking irritated. "I just told you, I spilled it."

"Is it really a good idea to be drinking when we have training tomorrow?"

"No," Four acknowledges, "but that doesn't mean I wasn't going to."

I frown slightly, but I don't say anything. I don't want to anger him. I am not afraid of him, but I am wary, even after our game of capture the flag. He makes me nervous, for reasons I can't explain and for reasons that I can. He saves me the trouble of having to think of a response, by asking, "So how did you end up locked in here?"

"Peter," I say shortly. "He surprised me, on my way back from the showers."

Four nods. "He goes to a lot of trouble to intimidate you," he muses. He is suggesting that Peter is wary of me, though he can't possibly think Peter fears me. I know better. Peter does not fear a tiny girl from Abnegation. He wants to frighten me, to make me give up. I don't know how he can think that being locked in a closet would make me want to give up. Peter doesn't know how to read people.

"He thinks that if I don't show up for training tomorrow, Eric will kick me out," I decide.

Four shrugs. "Maybe. But I won't be there, either. When they find me, they'll find you."

"How long will that take?" I ask, leaning back against the door and sliding into a sitting position.

He looks somewhat amused, and he sits down too. "Probably before breakfast," he assures me. "The janitors will come in here before they start cleaning."

"So we're going to be stuck here for the next seven hours?"

Four scowls again. "Probably."

I didn't realize being stuck in the supply room with me was such a disgruntling task. I think about saying as much, but then decide to keep my mouth shut like he advised Christina on our first day here. I stare at the ceiling for a while, debating a number of things in my head. Do I try to make conversation, or do I remain silent? Should I stare at the ceiling and the wall the whole time, or will I be able to examine him for any duration of time? I assume looking at him won't be a problem; I doubt he'll be looking at me.

Which is why I'm so surprised to hear, "Are we going to sit here and not talk to each other all night? Because if that's your plan, then this is going to be a _really_ long night."

I blink. "What do you want to talk about?"

He appears to be thinking. I wait, because no topic comes to my mind. "Why are you afraid of crows?"

That's not really what I was expecting from him, but he doesn't seem like the type that would ask about my family or my past in Abnegation. "I don't know," I reply. I haven't really taken the time to dissect my fears.

"Okay." He nods, taking this in stride. I assume he wants me to ask a question next, but the best I can come up with is, "What was your initiation like?"

"Like this," he tells me, "But less cruel. No one was cut. Eric didn't have the power to make initiates beat each other to unconsciousness." He bites his lip, briefly, then. "I probably shouldn't have said that."

I shake my head. "I won't tell anyone," I promise.

Our eyes lock. "I know you won't," he says after a while. I haven't told anyone about his fear of heights, but that's not as important. That fear doesn't hurt anyone, but his criticism of Dauntless wouldn't go over well with the leaders.

He has trouble coming up with something to ask me after that. Neither of us can ask about the other's past. It would go against the "faction before blood" ideal. While I wait for him to speak, I lean my head back against the wall and yawn. My hair is still wet, and the room is surprisingly cold. I shiver slightly.

"Are you cold?" he asks me. I think I hear the tiniest bit of concern in his voice, but I can't be sure.

I nod, and cross my arms over my chest. This room obviously doesn't have any kind of temperature control in it. Four moves, and for one crazy second I think he's going to take his long-sleeved shirt off and give it to me. He doesn't, of course. He stands up, and disappears into the far corner of the room. He returns with an armful of blankets, and after a second trip he brings back pillows. "Are _all _the supplies in here?" I ask as I sit down on a bed of blankets.

"Pretty much." He disappears again and reappears with two bottles in his hand. How he found alcohol in here is beyond me. I ask as much. "Janitor's stash," he grins. "They want to drink just as much as everyone else does, and they have a harder time coming by it. It's not surprising they'd want to stock up."

He sits down on his own pile of blankets and hands me a bottle, and I reach out automatically to take it. When it's in my hands, I stare at it. I don't want to drink it, but I do want to drink it. Four twists the lid off his bottle and takes a long swig. I can either spend the rest of the night with a drunk Four, wondering what it's like, or I can join him. Hesitantly, I take the cap off my own bottle and sniff the alcohol.

When I finally take a drink, I have mixed feelings about it. Considering all the drunken people I've seen, I expected it to taste better. What I do like is the feeling I start to get when I've had a few more mouthfuls. A voice in the back of my head tells me that I should probably cut myself off before it's too late, so I set the bottle off to the side. Four is already a little more than halfway through his, but he sets his down too. "I'm surprised you drank at all."

I shrug, starting to feel a little dizzy. Over the next several seconds, Four stares at me intently. "Tris," he begins, "I want to try something."

"What?" I ask warily.

"Come here." He pats the blankets beside him, motioning for me to join him. This is proof enough for me that alcohol does strange things to people. Normally, Four stays in his own personal space bubble and doesn't ever invite anyone to join him in it.

Most of my nerves seem to have been numbed by the alcohol, so I don't feel as anxious as I might have normally as I crawl across my blankets to sit on his. I sit cross-legged, facing him, my left knee a mere inch from his leg. He observes me, his eyes searching my face, and finally decides on something. He leans into me, and my heart leaps into my throat. It takes several seconds for my brain to catch up with what my body already knows is happening, and by that point he's kissing me.

His hand rests on my cheek, causing my skin to tingle pleasantly. His lips move against mine, but I have no idea what to do. My lack of reaction confuses him, and he pulls away. "I'm sorry," he says. "I shouldn't have done that."

I blink. "Because you didn't want to, or I didn't?"

He looks at me for a long minute. "You didn't seem interested in kissing me."

My heart continues to beat rapidly. "I am," I say, clearing my throat. "Interested, I mean."

It takes a few seconds, but a smirk forms on his face. "You didn't act like it."

I shrug, embarrassed. I'm sure my face is red. "I don't know what to do."

His smirk turns into a soft, genuine smile. "Don't think about it," he says. "Just go with it."

Four's lips return to mine, and I kiss him back. I try not to think about it, like he said, but it's hard not to. Am I doing the right thing? Is he enjoying himself, or does he now feel obligated to kiss me?

He finally pulls away from me, just as I'm running out of oxygen. He is smiling slightly, and I feel more confident about my kissing skills. He runs his hand over my hair and kisses my neck, just below my ear. "You're a natural," he assures me. Less hesitant now, I slip my hands up under the hem of his shirt, curious to know what he feels like.

This surprises him, but he doesn't stop me. Instead, his lips brush my ear, and he whispers, "I think Peter did me a favor by locking you in here."

I pull away, laughing. "Maybe I should thank him."

"Can you imagine his face?" Four asks, but he doesn't actually want me to answer his question. He quickly changes the subject by pulling me back into him and kissing me forcefully.

A short while later, I crawl back to my blankets, my blood still buzzing. I'm exhausted, suddenly, and I need sleep in order to make it through training the next day. I get comfortable on the makeshift bed, and look over at Four. He's looking at me, too. Feeling a little self-conscious, I put my arm out in his direction. He mirrors my action, and I slip my hand into his. Our fingers intertwine, and I feel oddly comforted. We don't talk, and I close my eyes feeling truly, blissfully happy for the first time in weeks.

So, as it turns out, Peter actually did something nice. Imagine that.

**A/N: Not 100% positive how I feel about this one. I rewrote it several times, but idk. Let me know what you think? Again, I hope Four and Tris weren't too ooc. I just wanted some more fluff.**


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